Poor Roland was sorely tried; his clothes were very shabby, for it had been a long time since his mother had been able to buy him any--patched pantaloons and worn-out shoes indicated his poverty. His cheeks were crimson, and his eyes flashed indignation, but he took no farther notice of the insulting remarks, or of the titter which passed round among the girls. "For shame, Mary!" exclaimed Madeline; "have you no feeling? Roland is my friend, and shall be respected here." By this time the boy had advanced to the piazza, and Madeline called for Nanny to come and take the bundles which he had brought. Madeline then invited him into the house, and with real delicacy of feeling, made no farther allusion to the insolence of the children. They entered the drawing-room where Aunt Matilda was seated. "Aunty, this is my friend, Roland Bruce; he has brought the work home." She bowed stiffly. "Could you not have taken the boy into the sitting-room, Madeline?" "If those upstarts had not insulted him, perhaps I might have done so; but, as it is, I prefer to bring him here." Madeline was by this time fully roused. She could not endure that a boy of Roland's character should be first insulted by her friends, and then by her aunt. Turning to the latter, she said, "Will you please, ma'am, to entertain the young ladies while I shall be engaged with Roland?" "Which are your guests, Maddy, this boy, or the young ladies who have come to visit you?" "Just now this is my guest, Aunt Matilda. There is no use of arguing with me," and with a proud toss of her brown ringlets, she turned to the boy who stood a silent listener. "Come with me, Roland, I have many things to show you," and Madeline led the way, while Roland followed, by no means abashed by the magnificence which everywhere surrounded the young heiress--velvet carpets, lace curtains, rich furniture, splendid paintings, &c., had no effect upon the manly boy, who, with a proud step and dignified carriage, followed his friend. First she led him to the library. "I want you to look around, Roland, at the books; here is where I like to come on stormy days, when the wind is howling around. Many an hour I've spent in this room." Roland looked around delighted; he had never seen so many books together before. "Why, Madeline, I should never want any other friends. Here are Cowper, and Milton, and Shakspeare, and our own Burns--and all these books of history. You ought to be a very wise little girl." "Yes, I know that, Roland; but I have not read the useful books; I read novels, and fairy tales, and all kinds of poetry, and aunty says they fill my head with nonsense. Would you like to read some of these books, Roland? for I have only to say so to papa, and he would lend them to please me." "I could hardly ask such a thing, Madeline, but if he will, I promise to take good care of them, and to keep them covered."